


In Which the Room of Requirement is a Wingman

by birdfriend



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Snogging, Somewhere in between Teen and Mature, merry crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdfriend/pseuds/birdfriend
Summary: Of three things, Remus Lupin was absolutely certain.One: He was confident in himself as a man.Two: He was sensible.Three: He fancied women.And so, because Remus Lupin was absolutely, completely certain of himself, his sensibility, and his sexuality, it baffled him that he had somehow managed to accidentally and inescapably trap himself in a minuscule broom closet pressed up against one Sirius Black, and that he was liking it.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	In Which the Room of Requirement is a Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in a folder on my desktop for three years, and I reread it to procrastinate finishing my ML multi-chapter fic. This should really be a one shot, but the other parts aren't done yet, and the Christmas part is, and I'm dying to share it. So Happy Cribmus, yes there's Mistletoe.

Of three things, Remus Lupin was absolutely certain.

One: He was confident in himself as a man.

...Boy? Werewolf. Alright, admittedly things were a bit confusing, being an adolescent dark creature-teen hybrid, but he knew who he was as a person and was not ashamed of it. For the most part.

Two: He was sensible. He studied religiously and was wont to carry a book wherever he went. He had a good head on his shoulders (at least, that’s what Dumbledore had said when he welcomed him into Prefecture this year) and could reason through any problem that his friends got him into. Although, now that he thought about it, what led such a sensible boy to take the company of said imbecilic friends was still a mystery unsolved...

Three: He fancied women. He didn’t think he was very _good_ at fancying women, as he was overtaken with an embarrassing, uncomfortable blush whenever Sirius and James swooned about the dormitory waxing poetic about the “desideratum of a woman’s bottom” and ranking the girls in their year by the size of their tits. When Sirius lounged across Remus’ lap during these swoon sessions, smiling his most charming smile and asking his opinion of someone or another’s breasts in a poorly-disguised attempt to find out who he fancied, Remus privately thought that he found studying the devious twinkle in those stormy eyes much more fascinating than the size of anyone’s breasts.

But he liked birds. Really. He did.

And so, because Remus Lupin was absolutely, _completely_ certain of himself, his sensibility, and his sexuality, it baffled him that he had somehow managed to accidentally and inescapably trap himself in a minuscule broom closet pressed up against one Sirius Black, and that he was _liking_ it.

I.

It all started, Remus reasoned much later, when Filch caught James charming a layer of ice onto the floor of the Great Hall on Christmas Eve.

“It’s that bloody cat.”

“Mrs. Norris is perfectly harmless, James.”

“I’m with Prongs on this one, Moony. She’s staring right at us.”

“Only because your ankles are showing, Padfoot, just there —“

Mrs. Norris, eyes fixed on where the four boys were crunched under the invisibility cloak, let out a very innocent, very loud _MROW._

“ _Shit — bugger —“_

_“Footsteps!”_

“Quickly, quickly, pull it taut!”

“I’m trying—“

“The ice!”

“ _FUCK!”_

With a great thud, Peter, Remus, and Sirius crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, leaving a very vulnerable and very visible James standing unsteadily on his feet as the cloak settled down atop the dogpile, and Filch rounded the corner to the Great Hall.

_“_ Fuck,” Sirius repeated.

“FIFTH YEARS OUT OF BED!”

“You all owe me ten Potions essays for this,” James growled to the invisible pile of friends beside him as Filch wobbled his way across the ice, muttering obscenities the whole way.

“Ten _each,_ or ten total?” Peter whispered nervously.

“Shut up,” Sirius admonished, slapping him weakly from where his arm was twisted the wrong way around his chest.

Remus merely rolled his eyes, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, Moony?” Sirius’ beam shone through the dark as he turned his head to address him. Remus wiggled a bit, sighing again when he found his right arm going numb under Peter’s bottom, his legs tangled with Sirius’, and his left arm nowhere to be seen. He huffed a puff of air up to dislodge his fringe from his eyes.

“Bugger off,” he sighed finally.

“Gladly,” Sirius retorted, bucking his hips up where Remus was sprawled half on top of him. Remus found his lost left arm and poked him in the side, causing Sirius to give a small shout of laughter.

“ _Shutuphe’salmosthere!”_ Peter squeaked.

“ _POTTER,_ ” Filch snarled. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I thought it was obvious, sir,” James said, gesturing grandly at the floor. “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for your meddling cat!”

Remus calmly placed a hand over his forehead.

“What’s he on about?” Peter whispered, though he didn’t really need to. Filch was roaring loud enough to disguise even a troll having an allergy attack.

“Muggle cartoons,” Sirius replied. “Moony got him into them when he came to stay with us over summer. Bloody nonsensical things, if you ask me.”

“Saturday morning cartoons are a tradition!” Remus protested, tugging on Sirius’s hair in protest. Sirius only smiled lazily at him.

“Sirius,” Peter hesitated. “Is that your…wand? _”_

Remus blushed furiously and attempted to launch himself off of Sirius’ body as fast as possible as Peter recoiled, but Sirius held him with an iron grip, not wanting to unsettle the invisibility cloak. Without Peter’s arm in the way, Remus could tell that Sirius did, in fact, have somewhat of an erection. He focused very intently on a small catsup stain on the floor beneath the ice.

“No Wormtail,” Sirius deadpanned. “I’m just happy to see you.”

Peter protested, positively quivering. “Well I never—we collapsed and we were all tangled and I—“

“Please shut up!” Remus squeaked.

Filch’s rant had trailed off into an unnerving combination of cackling and mumbling as he led James, rather unsteadily, across the ice and toward the doors.

_“Straight to McGonagall... hanging by the wrists... ice on the floors.... still got the chains...”_

James looked over his shoulder and sent his friends a roguish wink and a thumbs up as Filch thrust him outside into the hall and slammed the doors closed behind him.

It took longer than usual to charm the rest of the floor without James there, but by two in the morning the three of them huddled back under the cloak — Sirius behind Remus, who carried Peter as Wormtail — and ambled back up to Gryffindor tower.

The door to their dormitory had barely closed before James was bellowing.

“DETENTION ON CHRISTMAS!”

Sirius cursed and flung the cloak off, while Remus dropped Peter in surprise. Peter hit the ground wriggling with a small thump and was shocked back into his human form, limbs still flailing about in confusion.

“If we had known, we would have taken the blame, too,” Remus said quietly.

James deflated and collapsed on his bed melodramatically. The fuzzy hippogriff slippers on his feet diminished the effect somehow. “No, no, I was merely a pawn in the grand scheme of things. Operation Ice Rink was more important. Did you finish the job?”

“Timed the ice to appear, tables to hover to the walls, and the staff table to turn into a skate rental, all just before Christmas Dinner,” Remus counted off on his fingers, wearily lowering himself onto his own bed. Since Peter was mostly incompetent at charms, and Sirius was easily distracted, most of the work had fallen on his shoulders.

James beamed, instantly recovering from his feigned despair and launching himself onto Remus’ bed, kissing him grandly on the cheek. “Brilliant, Moony, _brilliant._ You’ll have to tell me how it goes over.”

“We won’t need to,” Sirius said, grinning mischievously and sitting himself down at the foot of the bed, feet tangling with Remus’. “I’ve got a plan.”

Peter, who seemed to finally have his limbs back under control, joined Remus’ bed as well. “But we’re already going to be in so much trouble...”

Sirius pointedly ignored him. “Consider it repayment for taking the blow, Prongs.”

“Well then, let’s have it.” James folded his arms expectantly, leaning forward, eyes glinting mischievously.

Remus smiled, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the headboard and twitched his foot where Sirius’ lay beside it.

Peter looked terrified, but swallowed his protests.

Sirius raised his hands, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Operation Break James Out Of Detention And Abduct Mrs. Norris.”

Without missing a beat, eyes still pleasantly closed, Remus offered: “Operation Saint Nick Mrs. Norris.”

There was a pause.

“How does he do that?” Sirius gasped, kicking at Remus’ knee.

“Brilliant, Moony,” James repeated.

Remus only smiled wider, and pretended to doze as Sirius leaned in to detail the plan.

* * *

The late afternoon of Christmas found presents forgotten in the fifth year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, James non-magically scrubbing a mysterious slime from the potions classroom, and the remaining three marauders convening in the tiny alcove just outside the stairs to the dungeons.

“Why are we convening here again?” Remus complained. “We’re much too big for this place now.”

“Where’s your sense of _tradition_ , Moony?” Sirius beamed, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Let’s get on with it then,” whispered Peter, who had a somewhat ironic dislike of small spaces.

“Alright,” Sirius began, lighting his wand, shoving it in Peter’s mouth to free his hands, and whipping out the Map. Remus kindly took the wand out of Peter’s mouth and held it aloft.

Sirius continued, “We’ve been over the plan fifty times—“

“Three,” Remus corrected.

“—Fifty times,” Sirius barreled on. “I will cause a distraction of epic proportions to distract Filch—“

“A distraction which you _really_ should have planned ahead of time—“

“Stop interrupting, Moony,” Sirius snapped, grabbing the wand from Remus’ hand and shoving it in his mouth instead. Peter started giggling madly.

“What is it now, Wormtail?” Sirius glowered.

“You put... he’s got... your wand in his.... in his mouth...”

“Not before he put it in yours,” Remus tried to say, but around the wand it came out more like “Hngggggaaaaaargh.” Peter’s giggles increased twofold.

“Now is not the time for lewd jokes, men,” Sirius admonished. “This is serious.”

“No, _you’re_ Sirius,” Peter chortled.

Sirius or not, he looked about ready to strangle Peter, so Remus cleared his throat and tapped the map.

“Thank you, Remus,” Sirius said, bowing as deeply as possible in the small space, “For bringing us back to the matter at hand. I will create a distraction, luring Filch away from the dungeons and leaving Mrs. Norris and James vulnerable. Peter, you will...”

Peter forced the last of his laughter down with a nervous gulp. “Lure Mrs. Norris away as Wormtail.”

“Good. Remus, you will...”

Remus raised his eyebrows in silence. Sirius made a face, then took his wand out of Remus’ mouth.

“Rescue James from the dungeon, then use the map to find Wormtail and relieve him of his duties, and capture the cat.”

“And once I escape from Filch we will all reconvene...”

“Behind the tapestry outside the Great Hall,” they all chorused together.

“Perfect,” Sirius said. “Don’t move until I give the signal.”

“What’s the signal?” Peter asked, panicking.

Sirius only grinned in response, before fleeing the alcove and dashing down the stairs to the dungeons.

“So,” Remus said, “How have you been getting on, Peter?”

“Well, thank you,” Peter replied.

“Your mother is in good health?”

“Oh yeah, she’s good. Sent me homemade Pumpkin Pasties for Christmas.”

“Ah, I do love Mrs. Pettigrew’s Pumpkin Pasties. They’re a bit sticky though, yeah?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“They’re better that way, though.”

“I agree.”

An enormous _boom_ echoed up from the dungeons, shaking the ground beneath them.

Remus smiled pleasantly. Peter looked as though he might vomit.

There was a great roar that sounded vaguely human, and mere seconds later, Sirius emerged from the stairs, followed by a billowing cloud of acrid smoke. As he zoomed past the alcove, he bugged out his eyes and made a bizarre flapping gesture with his arms before he was gone, around the corner, with Filch hot on his trail.

“You reckon that’s the signal?” Peter trembled.

“I’d say so, yes,” Remus said gravely.

Peter nodded, shrank down, and disappeared into the smoke.

Remus leaned back, having the alcove all to himself, and tapped his foot as he whistled “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” After about halfway through the second chorus, a skittering sound made its way to his ears, and moments later, Wormtail scampered past the alcove, Mrs. Norris trotting menacingly after him. They disappeared off into the opposite direction of where Sirius had led Filch.

After heaving a long-suffering sigh, Remus straightened his robes, left the alcove, and made his way through the remains of smoke down the stairs to the dungeons.

At the base of the stairs he found about a dozen spent dungbombs, which must have been the cause of the smoke, and the smell. Remus pinched his nose with a thumb and forefinger and made his way down the corridor to the potions classroom. He stepped inside, and looked around.

The room was half-clean, and there was an abysmally dirty rag abandoned in the leftmost corner beside a bucket of cleaning solution. James was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, fuck,” Remus said softly.

He rooted around in his robes, searching for the Map so he could at least perform his second half of duties, before realizing that Sirius had never given it to him, and was probably running rampant about the castle with it in his pocket at this very moment.

“Ah, fuck,” he said again, for good measure.

He jogged back out into the corridor and up the stairs, calling cautiously on his enhanced senses to try and pick out the smells of his friends. Unfortunately, the dungbombs seemed to cancel out his wolfy advantages. He’d have to find them on his own.

He reached the top of the stairs and ran down the corridor that Sirius and Peter had led their victims. At the intersection, he debated momentarily before following down the path of Peter.

As he got farther and farther away, the putrid smell of the dungbombs began to fade, leaving some leeway for the wolf to smell. Remus caught a whiff of dander, litterbox, and fear, and turned left and up the stairs to follow it.

The staircases didn’t seem to pick up on the sense of urgency with which Remus was running, because the one he was on lurched dangerously to the side, nearly throwing Remus off the edge. He regained his balance and ran up the moving stairs as fast as he could without falling, following the scent of Cat-Peter-Rat-Chase as closely as possible.

The smell took him on a wild goose chase up and down staircases and through tapestries and corridors. Students in his way looked on in alarm, and Remus just barely had enough time to mutter apologies at them. If students were in the halls, it was almost time for dinner, and that meant he was running out of time.

Just when he was beginning to think that the dungbombs had permanently damaged the wolf’s nose, he turned into an abandoned corridor and struck gold.

Mrs. Norris was sitting calmly in the middle of the tiny hall, licking her paws innocuously.

Remus collected himself and slowed his breathing before walking quietly up to her. She watched him silently, but did not seem keen on running away.

He looked around the corridor, then down at Mrs. Norris, who was staring at him with big eyes. Where was Peter? He suddenly noticed the way she was slowly licking her paws, and his heart stopped.

“Oh my—“

“Moony!”

Remus started, whipping around to see Sirius sprinting toward him. Remus caught him by the arms and spun him twice to stop his momentum. Sirius was already speaking before they came to a stop.

“Filch is locked in a broom closet on the second floor, I’m sorry I forgot to give you the map, I tried to find you but you weren’t in the dungeons, and then I followed you on the map all the way here and... where’s James?”

“I was hoping he’d be with you,” Remus said.

“Peter?”

They looked down at the cat, who suddenly seemed to remember her sense of self-preservation, and moved to dash away.

“Oh no you don’t,” Remus snarled, diving down to catch her by her tail and reel her in. She didn’t come quietly, scratching and biting the whole way.

“Argh!” He cried out, trying to hold her at arms length as she lashed out at him. “I don’t think she likes the wolf,” he managed.

“I don’t think she likes being touched at all,” Sirius amended, before holding out his wand. “ _Petrificus totalus!_ ”

Mrs. Norris stopped moving abruptly, and Remus had to tighten his grip so as not to drop her. He straightened up as Sirius came up beside him.

“We have to find James,” Sirius decided.

“But Peter!” Remus said, glancing down in alarm at the frozen cat.

“Come on, would it _really_ be that much of a loss if Peter was eaten by Mrs. Norris?”

“Sirius!”

“I am!”

Remus shifted Mrs. Norris so that he could reach out to strangle Sirius. Sirius made to step back out of his reach, but stopped abruptly, as if hitting an invisible wall.

Remus frowned.

“I can’t move,” Sirius explained, pushing against thin air.

Remus blinked, stepping back a few inches only to encounter the same problem himself. He reached out an arm in all directions, finding that they were solidly enclosed in a circle made of... well, nothing.

Sirius, who seemed to come to the same conclusion, sent several hexes flying. They all arced neatly through the air, unencumbered by the invisible boundaries.

“Careful,” Remus scolded as a shower of purple sparks flew past his nose in the close quarters.

“What the hell is this?” Sirius huffed, pushing uselessly against their prison.

Having exhausted any possibilities of escape from all four sides, Remus looked up.

Immediately, his stomach did an impressive and sickening backflip.

“Sirius,” he said hoarsely, willing his face not to be as pink as he _knew_ it was.

_“What?”_ Sirius snapped, following Remus’ gaze. He stiffened. “Oh.”

Above them dangled a rather smug-looking piece of magical mistletoe.

“Ah, fuck,” Remus said.

“ _This is_ _not the time for mistletoe!”_ Sirius bellowed.

“Is there _ever_ a good time for mistletoe?” Remus said, finding his voice rather strangled. For some unfathomable reason his heart had managed to lodge itself in his throat, and was making it difficult to speak, and also breathe. For an even more unfathomable reason, Remus found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Sirius’ mouth. Why had he never noticed Sirius’ _mouth_ before?

“Alright,” Sirius said, snapping Remus out of his daze as he moved in closer. “Let’s get it done, then.”

“ _What?”_ Remus choked, attempting to back up, hitting the invisible wall behind him instead.

“We have to _go,_ Moony, James is Merlin-knows-where in the castle and Peter is—“ they looked down at the petrified Mrs. Norris, shuddered, and looked back up. “It’s just a snog between friends, Moony, don’t be a poof about it.”

“A poof? _You’re_ the one who’s suggesting we _kiss!”_ Remus protested, although it came out less forcefully than he had intended. His eyes fixated on Sirius’ mouth once more.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Sirius replied, attempting to gesture wildly but meeting the invisible barriers on the way. They seemed to be closing in slowly.

Remus let out a long-suffering sigh, tightening his grip on the cat and attempting to calm his heartbeat because Sirius was right. It was just a snog between friends.

“Okay,” Remus said, forcing his eyes to meet Sirius’.

Sirius nodded and, with determination, surged forward to press his lips to Remus’.

It was awkward at first, because Mrs. Norris was stiff in between them and Remus’ lips were smashed uncomfortably together and Sirius didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. But then Remus switched Mrs. Norris to one arm and brought the other up behind Sirius’ back and Sirius’ lips softened and parted _oh,_ that was much nicer because Remus could fit his mouth _just there_ , and Sirius had decided his hands belonged on Remus’ waist and that his tongue belonged in Remus’ mouth, and really, kissing was _much_ more enjoyable than Remus had thought it would be.

Well, maybe it was _more_ than enjoyable, because Sirius was pulling him closer, nipping at his bottom lip and Remus barely managed to stifle a small noise in the back of his throat when they finally pulled apart.

Sirius seemed to have forgotten how to move, because his hands stayed firmly on Remus’ hips. Remus could commiserate, however, because he couldn’t seem to figure out how to drop his arm from around Sirius’ middle, either. Nor could he seem to figure out how to drop his eyes from Sirius’ mouth, which was now pink and wet and kiss-swollen.

“Alright, Moony?” Sirius breathed, blushing furiously. Remus didn’t think he’d ever seen Sirius Black blush in his entire life.

“Yeah,” Remus said, his voice lower than he expected and laced with nervous laughter.

“D’you think that did the trick?” Sirius whispered, glancing around them.

“Er...” Remus stalled, unsure if he wanted to run far away or pull Sirius impossibly closer.

“Maybe,” Sirius licked his lips and _oh that was not fair— “_ Maybe just. One more. Just in case? You never know.”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed quickly, then realizing that probably sounded too eager, he cleared his throat. “I mean, what’s another snog between friends, eh?”

“Right,” Sirius said. “Right, then. Er—“

He started to lean in again, and Remus took in a sharp breath, stomach swooping dangerously as Sirius’ lips just barely brushed his own—

And then pain, blossoming in his side.

Remus let out a cry. The spell on Mrs. Norris had picked a very inopportune time to fizzle out, and upon release the cat had scratched hard against the prison of Remus’ ribs.

The boys jumped apart, and apparently their kiss had indeed done the trick, as Mrs. Norris leaped from between them and loped down the hall, meowing loudly the whole way.

Before Remus and Sirius could so much as look at each other, James appeared in the small corridor.

“Moony! Padfoot!” James exclaimed, out of breath.

“Prongs!” they cried together.

“Wormtail?”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other in alarm.

“AFTER THAT CAT!” Sirius roared, and they all flew down the hall in the direction that Mrs. Norris had fled.

“What’s going on?” James panted as they rounded a corner.

“Where did you go?” Moony countered.

“I followed Peter out of the dungeons,” James said. “I thought that was the plan.”

“You _idiot,_ ” Sirius hissed. “We went over the plan fifty times!”

“Three,” Remus corrected.

“Moony I _swear to god,_ I will—“

“Where’s Filch?” James interrupted as they pushed through a crowd of first year Ravenclaws that were milling about.

“Locked in a broom closet,” Sirius reported proudly.

“Excellent,” James beamed.

“There!” Remus shouted, making a sharp turn into a side corridor on the third floor just as a fluffy tail disappeared around the corner.

“ _Petrificus totalus!”_ Sirius yelled, hitting the cat square in the hindquarters. The displaced momentum caused her to flip over once or twice before settling.

“You have the hippogriff feathers?” James asked.

Sirius fished them out of his robes and handed them over.

“And the glitter?”

Remus tossed him a pot, extracted from his pocket.

James set to work, speaking as he did. “Now _where_ is Wormtail?”

“Mrs. Norris ate him,” Remus said, leaning against the wall in exhaustion.

“Excuse me?” James raised an eyebrow.

“Mrs. Norris ate who?” Peter asked.

They all turned ‘round.

“Peter!” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his arm around their friend's shoulders.

“When did you... how did you...” Remus stammered.

“I outran Mrs. Norris about fifteen minutes ago and I changed back to look for all of you. I joined you in running back on the fourth floor,” Peter said, frowning.

They all took a moment to ponder that.

“Is it dinnertime yet?” Sirius broke the silence.

“Nearly,” Peter said.

James grinned wickedly. “Quickly, then.”

Twenty minutes later, at 17:00 sharp, the doors to the Great Hall opened to a spectacular sight. The entire floor was covered in a thick layer of ice. The staff table had an enormous awning over it that read, in bold, sparkling letters: “ICE SKATE RENTAL: 5 sickles a pair!” and was lined with various sizes of ice skates donned in house colors. The tables and benches had been pushed off to the walls, and in the center of the room was the enormous Christmas tree Hagrid had dragged in the day before. Atop the tree was a petrified cat, donning glitter and feather wings and looking like the grumpiest angel ever to grace the top of a tree.

In the middle of the crowd were four innocent-looking Gryffindor boys, smiling surreptitiously to one another.

Professor McGonagall was pushing her way to the front of the crowd, and stopped dead when she saw the sight before her. She was shaking, quite red in the face, and looked as though she were about to implode before Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Care to have a skate, Professor?” he said mildly. He conjured a pair of bright red skates with brilliant gold blades out of thin air for her; he was already wearing a pair of his own, colored in bright purple and chartreuse.

Her mouth twisted in something like a smile, and as she accepted the gift, the entirety of the school burst into an uproarious cheer and stampeded into the Great Hall.

Remus, as Sirius took his hand to keep him from falling on the ice a few minutes later, thought privately that Operation Saint Nick Mrs. Norris was quite a success.


End file.
